


A Story Worth Telling

by Christine_Eponine_Watson



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Soulmates, True Love, Truth, a story worth telling that is completely true, true events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:56:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1523648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christine_Eponine_Watson/pseuds/Christine_Eponine_Watson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is our story and it is a story worth telling. It is written out of love that is true, no matter what anyone might say or think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christine Eponine Watson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reflectiveless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reflectiveless/gifts).



> This story is dedicated to my Sherlawk, reflectiveless.
> 
> I will always be your Jawn. <3

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She had friends and family she loved and who loved her back, but something was missing. This girl wanted more from life than what is considered ideal and normal. She didn't want a white picket fence, a husband, and a life that revolved around the house and social calls, but she also didn't want a (male) knight in shining white armor who would slay a dragon to "rescue" her. She wanted to travel, to see far off lands she'd only ever heard and dreamt of, to taste and experience everything those lands had to offer. She wanted excitement and adventure and love. True love. She'd read about this elusive thing called love all her life and dreamt of it and how she imagined it would feel. In her dreams, the person she fell in love with was male, but even though she knew deep down that she fancied women, she never truly accepted it. Then, one day, everything changed.

There were actually many days that were turning points for her, but the one that set the wheels in motion was the day she first saw Les Misérables. She fell in love with the musical and wanted  Éponine and Marius to end up together. She had read novels based on the  Phantom of the Opera , so she figured that such novels must also exist for Les Mis. However, she found none on amazon. She googled what she wanted to find and discovered something amazing that changed her life forever. She discovered fan fiction.

She read a fan fiction about   Éponine and Marius that made it so that  Éponine had not died of the bullet she took for Marius. In the story,  Éponine was saved by a kind, rich old man who took her in as his daughter.  Éponine's new life was infinitely better than the one she'd left behind. One thing led to another, and she ran into Marius at a ball. The story was  not  a happy story and the end was not how the girl wanted this story with which she had become so obsessed to end. So she searched the website, fanfiction.net, and found another. She kept finding and reading new stories, her main ship in Les Mis shifting from   Éponine and Marius to  Éponine and Enjolras. She even started writing her own Les Mis and Phantom fan fictions.

The next of the many turning-point days started out just as ordinary as the previous. One day, she was looking through the pictures on her cell phone, when she stumbled upon one of the very first she had downloaded. This picture shipped Sherlock Holmes and John Watson from BBC's  Sherlock . This picture made her think that there might be fan fiction on  Sherlock  out there as well. She searched the website and, sure enough, there was  Sherlock  fan fiction, just as she'd hoped. She started reading many, many,  many,  stories about the show, all of them involving this wonderful thing called "Johnlock."

The third important day was the day she stumbled upon a story called "A Tiny Problem" by a person whose pen name was reflectiveless. She absolutely adored this story and reviewed it, just like she did every fan fiction she read.

The fourth and most important day was the day that reflectiveless replied to one of her reviews. The two chatted about gay pride parades on Baker Street and many other things. Then reflectiveless asked if they could keep chatting on skype as it would be easier. The girl — whose pen name was Christine Eponine, later Christine Eponine Watson, but for the purpose of this story, we will refer to her simply as Christine — did not have a skype account, but she enjoyed talking to her new friend so much that she created one. After that, the two were inseparable, or as inseparable as two people who have never actually met could possibly be and closer.

Over time, Christine realized that she was gay, though at first she thought she was bi, but she realized that she  really  didn't like men. The reason she had this revelation was that she was slowly but surely falling in love with reflectiveless, whom she had, by this time, begun referring to as Sherlock.

The fifth most important day of Christine's life started out strange and ended amazingly. Christine had to dress as Amelia Bloomer for her AP US History, or APUSH, class. While changing into her costume in the girls' bathroom, Christine was chatting with her Sherlock and Sherlock hinted that in the future, since Christine was still under the age of 18 while Sherlock was not, Christine should date her. Christine's heart was pounding when she realized that her Sherlock felt the same for her.

The two foolish writers continued flirting without actually admitting their feelings for several days. Then finally, one of them, probably Sherlock, finally actually told the other girl how she felt. Christine told her that she reciprocated and they were happy. The problem was that Christine was too afraid to tell Sherlock that she loved her.

One night, Christine got up the courage to tell Sherlock that she loved her through a song. She sent Sherlock the link to a youtube video of "Hanging By a Moment" by Lifehouse, saying that since she couldn't manage to say how she felt, this was the only way she knew how. After Sherlock listened to the song, which included the lyrics, "I'm fallin' even more in love with you," etc., Sherlock, addressing Christine by her real first name, said that she loved her. Christine's heart was pounding, but she managed to reply, using Sherlock's real name, though that will not be mentioned here, "I love you too, Sherlock."

The next most important day was the day when Christine asked where they stood, relationship-wise, and Sherlock said that she'd love to be her girlfriend, which is what Christine had been hoping would happen when she asked. Christine told her as much and they are still very happy together. It was Christine's first relationship and, if all goes according to plan, her only. They have plans for what they want to do with their lives together which includes going on many fantastic adventures together, both through the stories they write together and in real life. Christine and Sherlock face many challenges, but it will all be worth it in the end, so long as they have each other.

 

**I would say "the end," but that would be a lie, for this is only the beginning.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This might be a bit long winded. I’m sorry. It went with chapter 1 well originally but I was getting stuck so I rewrote the whole thing. Sorry, first person perspective. It’s really just a long love letter to Christine... also I really like Sherlock XD Sorry.

         When I was growing up, I had a lot of difficulty trying to read. When I was 7, a doctor determined it was because I had a very rare eye disease that made some colors much brighter then they should be. It made reading black on white paper extremely difficult as the white would drain out the color of the words. I finally started learning how to read when I was 8, but by then I had already been so frustrated with trying to learn that I had given up and assumed there was nothing worth reading in books anyway. I discovered that the pages of older books would turn yellow and brown from age, taking away the crisp and blinding white. The second yellowed book I read- the only kind I could really understand, it wasn’t anything like the horrific dribble that teachers would try to push on me. The lines didn’t end with the same tags of ‘said so and so’ or a plot that was filled with loopholes and couldn’t possibly entertain anyone. It was something else entirely. For the first time, I didn’t see the words or the pages in my hands, I had no idea how long it had been since I had started and had no care in the world how much longer I would be, I wasn’t sitting on the edge of a bed, I was on the misty moors of Devonshire where at any moment I could fall into a lethal bog or hidden quicksand. A demonic hound roamed loose at night and all I would be able to see before my final breath would be its fiery eyes staring me down. Thus, I quickly became a fan of Sherlock Holmes. I didn’t know then that this would change my life other then getting me to start reading books- though that certainly helped as well.

            My reading and writing skills improved dramatically after that and in high school I always took creative writing as my elective. I truly loved it, but when I began college I sadly had to push away writing for a while so I could focus on studies. Sometimes I think it would have served me better to do the exact opposite. It’s funny now, the year I read The Hound of The Baskervilles was the same year the first Lord of the Rings movie came out. I new at the time of course that they would be making all three movies but sadly not The Hobbit- well, that what the fans thought then of course. I read The Hobbit just after I finished Baskervilles, and given the setting, I’m not surprised I had made my first connection of the two back then. A wild adventure starring someone who had apparently wandered just a bit too far from their own living room. Que Martin Freeman. I’m not the least bit ashamed to say I waited 24 hours in line to see the midnight premier of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, and an unexpected journey it truly was. If it hadn’t been for my rants about how perfect and amazing Bilbo Baggins had been, I likely would not have seen the BBC Sherlock. It was only by chance that I was talking about him one day when someone asked if I was a Martin Freeman fan, I must admit I had never actually taken the time to learn what his name was before that moment. By funny happenstance I never watched A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, or shockingly, ANYTHING else he had been in, ever. But sometimes I think, maybe I wasn’t meant to see them yet. That his very existence had been hidden from me for the sole reason that it wasn’t time yet.

            I had heard of the BBC Sherlock before of course, as a fan of the books, how could I not? But I had ‘never had time’ or just wasn’t interested that particular day in watching it. The past couple of years had been the most difficult time of my life in fact, and watching Sherlock, unbeknownst to me, was the beginning of the light at the tunnel.

            How no one had warned me the damn thing was only 6 episodes is beyond me. I didn’t think my heart could be ripped apart in such a small amount of time, especially since I had gone in expecting a simple show about solving crimes. Thorin said it best, I’ve never been so wrong in all my life.

            But what the hell do you do once you’ve seen the greatest show you’ve ever seen and it ends with one of the main characters jumping off a building? That’s a cliff hanger I- and apparently the fandom both from the 1800’s and 2000’s, wasn’t ready for. That’s when I found something rather intriguing. Fanfiction. I finally got the happy ending I had always wanted, as well as the romance I thought I alone had suspected…. Trust me, I’m very much not alone on that one evidentially…

            The writer in me from all those years ago had come back, begging me desperately to write a story of my own, and so, as it was summer and I had no college work to hinder me, I indulged it. My first story was…. Well, it was crap. Second one was pretty decent, sometimes I reread it for kicks. But the third one, they do say the third’s the charm right? It wasn’t meant to be more then perhaps 5,000 words, and that turned into 10, then 20… it’s almost at 50 now. Sadly college has prevented me from working on it for quite a while, although I never abandoned it and think of it constantly. It was one of the best decisions of my life.

            I often read the stories of the people that would comment on it, they were all fantastic. It inspired me so much to read so many stories. Despite the characters always being the same, the tales varied significantly and I would find myself quickly immersed inside of them. One of which wasn’t like any of the others I had ever read, and by then, I had read more then a lifetime’s worth.

            Sherlock was both real and not real. He was a work of fiction, and he was beginning to figure it out. The idea intrigued me greatly. The author had left previous comments on my story, something that always made me smile no matter who was writing them. But even then, even in the very beginning, something about the author had always stood out to me. In her story, there was a girl from the real world that would occasionally be sucked into her own story. I thought it would be a simple case of the author falling in love with Sherlock, but it never was. It was always clear that the story was Johnlock. It made me wonder, who would the author in the story be with at the end? It was just a story though. Perhaps I was merely projecting the character onto the real author. But whenever she left me comments, I thought of who she might be, where she was from, what she looked like even. I love everyone’s comments, but with her… I had always wondered just a little bit more.

            I always like putting quick little quips at the beginning or ends of my chapters, just a short something to tell my readers a little insight into who I am or an explanation of something I included in the story. Christine, the only name I had come to know her by sent me comment about one of my notes. I have often sent pms to people, the only way to respond to comments on fanfiction.net. But until that point, no one had ever sent me a pm back. We started talking that way, but the system would never alert me to when I had a new message. I would check in constantly, just for this one author. Her replies had begun to mean so much to me, I don’t think I could explain why, even now. Luckily, it wasn’t too long before I convinced her to get skype- a far more practical means of quick communication.

            Prior to all of this, I had given up on my own love life. I had tried it before to only fail bitterly. I decided it was fine, I didn’t need anyone. But time edged on at it slowly ate away at me. I had tried, only to realize that as hard as I would try to get someone to like me, I found I honestly couldn’t care about them at all.

            I did find a lot of joy in talking to Christine however. When I didn’t come online I would even begin to worry that I should let her know I was away. One day, I was just Sherlock, pretending I was him as I talked to her in that frantic way he sometimes did in the show. It was only meant as a joke, I didn’t think anything would come of it. She quickly fell into the place of John.

            I loved every second of role playing with her, again, it wasn’t like with anyone else. It was fun, every new story essentially ended the same, Sherlock and John would realize their feelings for each other and fall in love, it was like nearly every fanfiction I had read. It was always easy for them, the answer right in front of their faces the whole time. Christine was an amazing John. How could Sherlock not fall in love time after time with him? That’s when I realized that I was no longer playing Sherlock, I was falling in love, and not with John.

            It crushed me to know it, I was so far away from her, it seemed impossible. And to tell someone you fell in love with them when you had only ever talked online? I would sound crazy. I didn’t even know what she looked like. She told me the night before Halloween about one of her favorite movies, and how I must watch it. I waited for her to fall asleep, for when we were done talking for the night and spent the rest of the night tracking down a copy of Cyrano de Bergerac, the original version in black and white and watched it until the sun came up. I knew that there was something between us by then, but not if I could ever tell her how if she truly felt the same. Cyrano thought Roxanne could never love him because he was hideous, how could someone love such a face? How could I convince someone to fall for me when they had never even seen my face before? So, like Cyrano, I decided I must use the only thing I was able to seduce her with, my words. I finally found the words to tell her, not as Sherlock, but as myself. Though apparently, and quite understandably, using vaguely old-ish English wasn’t exactly… believable? Clear enough? It went well… I think… just… not as well as I had hoped. Then I started to fear I would never have a chance with her. I tried regardless of course, trying to woo her in small ways over time. The first time I directly said ‘I love you’… was in German. I’ll admit, I’m probably not very good at this. I thought that was clever… like how Anderson thought Rache was German for revenge… I forgot that German is, well, a frightening sounding language and half of it sounds like some kind of scary insult. But the third time, I figured it out. I had to make it clear and put my heart on the line, not stand behind something else as a defense. I had to say,

I love you, Christine.

            And I have ever since and know I always will. Anyone that’s read the original Hounds of the Baskervilles will know that the story circles around John, not knowing that he was being watched the entire time by Sherlock, who only enters the story at the very end to tell his friend how brilliant he’s done and save the day of course. I feel like I’ve finally joined my Watson on those hazy moors, ready to retrieve my love and go bring her back home.


End file.
